


Wasting Time

by black_tea_blue_pens



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Death, Domestic, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hugs, M/M, Slow Burn, lots of fluff, side ship victuuri, soft angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-01-25 01:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21347815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_tea_blue_pens/pseuds/black_tea_blue_pens
Summary: Otabek and Yuri met in Barcelona, but they still had a long way to go together
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34
Collections: Otayuri Mini-Bang 2019





	1. Let's do this

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phichithamsters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters/gifts).

> Hi! Sora here! This is the piece @phichithamsters and I did for the Otayuri Mini-bang 2019. I wrote, and she drew the art which I'll post in the last chapter because spoiler :) a chapter a day will be released, starting today. There's eleven of them.
> 
> I don't know if anyone will notice, but this is my second work with the same title. The other one is way shorter, and it's the third chapter of this, so feel free to ignore it. I just thought I'd mention it.
> 
> Spanish translation/Traducción al español: Perdiendo el tiempo. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11119620

At first, Otabek thought of him as a soldier. His concentration, his discipline at such a young age. And then he realised: he was not a soldier, he was a skater. The most beautiful one. He was greatness.

When Otabek was just a kid, he chose a path. "I will never dance ballet again". Sometimes, he regretted that decision. Leroy was better than he was, and he danced. Nikiforov was better than he was, and he danced. Plisetsky was better than he was, and he danced. It was just for a second, but the thought was still there. And he knew why: It was because of him. He would never be like Yuri. He would never be the one to split in the air. He would never be the one with the thin waist, with the suggestive moves. He would never be like the Russian Fairy.

And then he met him. He was not that perfect, to be honest: he got angry too easily. Not with Otabek, though. He was too obsessed with overthrowing Nikiforov and Katsuki, and that influenced his choreographies often. And he dressed awfully. So that is when Otabek realised: he was not just a skater, he was a teenager. Ever since then, regret had never crossed his mind. He would be the one to propel him into the air. He would be the one to catch him after the splits. He would be the one to rescue him, be it by motorbike or by plane if necessary. And hopefully, someday he would be the reason for those moves. He did not want to be the Russian Fairy. He wanted to be his knight.

Maybe that day had come. He did not know, and he did not care. Leroy was always telling him he was too cold about everything, that it always seemed like he did not care. He mostly did not when Leroy was the one involved. It was different with Yuri: Otabek had been over excited with this project ever since he told him about it, but that did not really matter now. Yuri was on the ice rink, looking at him. "Davai", Otabek whispered softly. "Davai" Yuri answered. They could not really hear each other with all the shouting and the applauses around, but they could guess the words on each other’s lips.

The lights turned off and a single spotlight gathered all the attention around Yuri. 

“Let's do this.”

* * *

The choreography was perfect. The music (modesty aside) was perfect. Yuri was perfect out there. Otabek was ready. The idea of biting the glove had not been his, of course. Not that he wanted or even could refuse. Yuri split in the air. Otabek prepared himself; he took the gloves off and threw them aside (they would have to get them back later) before giving his attention back to Yuri. He pointed at him with his index and shot. Yuri died. Otabek made all his effort to keep himself from smiling (although there was probably not a single person on the rink looking at him) and the exhibition finished with Yuri dead on the ice. The lights turned on, revealing the details of Yuri’s make up (which was what had taken longer, due to Georgi’s perfectionism) and his smile, that he could not hide anymore. Yuri stood up, looked at Otabek and gestured to come to him. He did so. He had stayed at the edge of the ice rink, back against the barrier, but he went to Yuri at that moment and did something they had not practiced, or at least not officially: praying that Yakov would forgive him, he rose Yuri in the air. Yuri, surprised for an instant, almost fell, but he waved his arms and Otabek put him back on the ice. They waved together, grabbing each other’s hand and Otabek went back to the shade, letting Yuri live his moment. He had done his part, and felt happy. He was finally doing something for the soldier.

The applause continued for so long that at some point, Otabek went back with Yuri and waved again.

“You nailed it.”

“Thank you.” Yuri had that childish smile he had only seen when he was with his grandpa stuck on his face. As soon as they arrived at the lockers, Yuri hugged Otabek. “Thank you” he said again. Otabek hugged back. Any trace of the sensuality they had shown during the exhibition had disappeared and they became just two teens dressed in black, smiling after a nailed mischief.


	2. Summer

At the World Championships, Yuri welcomed Otabek with a hug.

The impact of that gesture at the hotel hall shocked them all. Yuuri and Victor looked at each other, smiling. Yakov frowned: another unnecessary distraction. And Mila was about to start fangirling as if she were just another Yuri Angel.

Yuri didn’t really care. It was Yakov the one who yelled:

“Yuratchka, your luggage!” And had him take his suitcase to the elevator along with the rest of the Russian team, leaving Otabek behind. He didn’t hide his anger all the way to his room.

* * *

The very day they had talked for the first time, Yuri had been fascinated by the sense of opportunity of Otabek and now, as he opened the door to his room to leave for dinner, he found Otabek about to knock.

“Were you going out?”

Yuri shook his head and stepped aside, letting Otabek in. They sat on the bed. It was just the second time they met, thought Yuri, but he felt like a childhood friend.

“How was the trip?”

“As tiring as always. I wish the competitions were closer. Europe or something.”

Otabek smiled. It was a casual smile Yuri had not seen before. It looked out of place in a competition context. He liked it.

“You told me you had something to tell me” said Yuri.

“About that… I have an idea” answered Otabek. “For the exhibition.”

They had been working together on a new exhibition. It was a sort of continuation of _ Welcome to the Madness _, with a piece Otabek had mixed. It had been difficult to do the choreography together, but they had made it work. Otabek’s patience was infinite and his ideas seemed infinite.

_ Whenever you retire, you should become a coach. Or a coreographer. You will rise your skaters to gold. _ Yuri had told him.

“What’s it?”

“How much do you weigh?”

Silence took the room as Yuri thought of his words. Otabek was comfortable in the silence, even when he was with other people. Another detail that Yuri, as impatient and nervous as he was, admired about him.

“Are you gonna…?”

Otabek nodded. Yuri hugged him again with a cheerful giggle, and this time he stayed longer, since Yakov wasn’t around to judge him.

“I’ve been practicing with pairs, so it’s not an issue on my side.”

“Oh, Mila insisted on practicing with me this season, so I’m good with it. Though we’ll have to practice. She says we should try to compete in the pairs category…”

* * *

They were the talk of the banquet. Yuri was more than happy. Even Victor was impressed by the lift, making comments about how he wished he could do that with Yuuri.

“Yuri, you managed to impress us all again. Twice in a competition. I’m so proud.” 

The party kept going until far into the morning, mainly due to the efforts of Chris, Victor and a very drunk Yuuri, but it was around three in the morning when Yuri’s yawns caught Otabek’s attention.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter” he said casually. Saying _ let’s go to sleep _ would only get a snap from Yuri.

Yuri followed Otabek to the gardens of the hotel. Yakov stopped them from the door.

“Yura, we leave for the airport in four hours. Be ready.”

“How are you going to drag Yuuri and Victor?”

“They will be ready, believe me.”

Yakov walked away.

“I should pack” said Yuri. “Let’s go to my room?”

Otabek sighed.

“I guess this time I won’t be able to make you sleep.”

Yuri stuck his tongue.

They returned quietly. As it seemed to happen in every single competition when Yakov announced the parting time, Yuri’s shoulders lowered and any sort of intensity disappeared from his face, leaving just sadness.

Otabek stopped, and hugged him.

“Stop with that face, anyone would think you just lost the competition.”

“It’s not that,” Yuri’s voice was muffled by Otabek’s shoulder. “I miss you so much. It has only happened with Grandpa before.”

“We chat every day.” He could not see Yuri’s blush.

“It’s not the same.”

Otabek tightened his hug.

They returned to Yuri’s room, and he packed as Otabek waited for him. He was in a hurry, and in no time he was sitting next to his friend, with three full hours to spare.

He yawned.

“Go to sleep” said Otabek.

Yuri shook his head. Otabek took his phone and turned on an alarm.

“I’ll sleep in Russia, when you’re away.”

Otabek lied on the bed.

“Come here.”

Yuri obeyed. His chest was hard, yet weirdly comfortable. Yuri’s eyes were closing, Otabek’s fingers light on his hair.

“There’s this girl in my team,” said Yuri. “I think she likes you.”

“Who is it?”

“Not Mila. And she’s the only one who can lift me, so I would only let you date her.”

“What’s the correlation?”

“You guess it.”

The talking kept going, Yuri’s eyes heavy, stubbornly keeping himself awake, until Otabek’s alarm went off.

“It’s time for you to leave.”

“Yakov will come.”

“Yuri…”

“Yura.”

“What?”

“Call me Yura. Please. If you want.”

“Yura. He’ll nag me.”

Yuri sighed and stood up. He took his suitcase and headed to the door.

“I’m leaving.”

Otabek went to him and hugged him.

“Goodbye.”

Both of them lengthened the hug, both of them unsure about if the other was fine with it. Otabek’s arms, strong around Yuri’s shoulders. Yuri holding tight to Otabek’s waist. Both of them unwilling to break apart for months once again, even if until now that had seemed fine.

“Long distance friendships are easier when the other person doesn’t give proper hugs”, whispered Yuri.

“Huh?”

Someone knocked the door.

“Yuratchka! To the airport!”

“Nothing.”

Yuri opened the door and walked away, leaving Otabek alone with the phone in his hand.

He opened the messages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some soft Yuri and soft Otabek because that's (for me) the best part of this fanfic (and of Beka and Yura's fanfics in general). Anyone agree?


	3. Their life

The phone rang, loud and strident, waking Yuri up. He grabbed his phone, turned off the alarm and scrolled through the messages, He ignored them all except one, from just a few minutes before.

Yuuri finished his breakfast and changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. He shoved clean clothes in his duffel bag with his skates, took his school bag and headed out just in time to hear the alarm ringing in Victor and Yuuri’s room.

As soon as he arrived to the rink, he found Lilia and Yakov waiting for him.

“Don’t put on your skates just yet. We have to decide the music,” said Yakov.

“I have ideas” Yuri replied immediately.

“So do we.”

“Not Carmen. I’m not skating to Carmen. You can make Giorgi dance to that, or Mila, or… Yuuri. I don’t care. I’m not dancing Carmen.”

“Is that your vetoed option?”

“Yes. And musicals. I’m not dancing to musicals.”

“Fine, but we get to choose the FS.”

Yuri nodded. The meeting was short. Yuri had decided his short program long ago, a heavy electronic beat with no message but the energy that hopefully would allow him to channel his raged skating style. The freestyle was an opera aria. It was not Carmen, but some very intense, loaded piece about a woman crying her beloved’s death. It was not Yuri’s first choice, but he could go with it.

As soon as the morning training session was over, Yuri showered and, still halfway through dressing up, he grabbed his phone again and sent a message to Otabek. He didn’t receive an immediate answer.

Morning classes were hell. Yuri didn’t see the point of most of the subjects, despite Victor and Yuuri insisting on the necessity of going through high school. It was just a pain, time wasted not skating.

He had lunch with his classmates. One of them was on the national team of rhythmic gymnastics, and she was the only person at school more flexible than Yuri. The other boy was just a regular student whose father was a teacher. They were nice, but Yuri had never met them outside school.

Afternoon classes were easier to go through. He was good at science, the teacher said. She did not know about the hours Otabek had spent trying to make Yuri understand isomerism.

As soon as they were over, he returned to the rink. Victor, Yuuri, Mila and Georgi were already there, all of them watching as Mila danced her proposed choreography. She had developed it with Victor’s help, and both of them had the talent to do so. Not that Yuri would ever recognize that outloud. The choreography was heartfelt and warm, and Yuri was surprised that it had nothing to do with Mila’s usual carelessness and hype, and yet it suited her so much.

Yuuri approached him.

“Have you seen that? I think it would be a great idea for pairs.”

“So what?”

“Victor would suit that choreography.”

Yuri nodded.

“But I don’t see Mila letting herself be lifted.”

“Maybe she could lift you,” said Yuuri. Yuri frowned at his words.

“Haa?”

“Or maybe Otabek could do it.”

“I don’t see myself doing something so… classy with Otabek.”

“You guys never fail to impress us, so I’ll trust you.”

Yuri couldn’t avoid a grin. Those words were usually directed to Victor.

“And how’s Otabek? Still worried about his chem exams?”

“He did it today… I think he’s worried, but he studied so much he hasn’t even started thinking about his programs. I’m worried about his performance.”

Yuuri rested his arms on the barrier of the rink.

“People’s priorities change over time and that’s fine. I think Otabek knows what he’s doing and where he wants his life to lead to.”

Yuri did not answer. He fixed his eyes on Mila’s step sequence, which she still had not figured out completely and had some holes. At that point, Yakov interrupted and had Victor jump to the rink for his choreography. Yuri grabbed his phone.

“Yuri! Warm up, you’re next.”

He sighed and left it aside.

Yuri called Otabek as soon as he left the rink. Otabek picked up the phone with a blunt  _ hey _ .

“Hi! Congratulations on being done with the exam!”

“Thank you.”

“Will you start this year’s choreography soon?”

There was silence on the other side of the phone.

“Next week.”

“I’m glad” said Yuri, realizing how relieved it sounded. Yuri told him about his day and the choreography and the music he had chosen. He was excited about his short program, rambling about the possibility of helping with the choreography. Otabek listened quietly.

He hung up for dinner, one of the few conditions Yakov had placed when Victor talked about letting Yuri move with them: they had to make sure he ate properly. So he sat at the table every day with Victor and Yuuri, heard them talk about their day, the news, Yuuri’s family back in Japan as they had homemade food Yuuri usually prepared in the morning. It made Yuri sulky and annoyed some days, but Yuuri’s cooking was good and it made him feel less lonely, specially when Otabek was too busy with studying and skating, which lately was always.

After dinner, he took care of the most urgent homework and went straight to bed. 


	4. Wasting time

Otabek’s fingers wandered along Yuri’s hair, while his other hand absently caressed Yuri’s back. Both were lying on the sofa, their legs tangled and Yuri resting on Otabek, head pressed against his chest, and hands fit on the sofa’s slits. None of them said a word. They were both tired. Yuri still had his hair wet from the shower and they did not bother getting dressed again. They were listening to the other guests’ steps from the hotel corridor. The stars were visible through the window.

“I think tomorrow’s Victor’s birthday” said Yuri. Otabek moved his head so he could look at him.

“Yeah, he’ll be thirty.”

“He’s old.”

“Yeah.”

They went back to silence. Yuri brought his hand to Otabek’s cheek.

“You’ve just shaved.”

“Yeah.”

It had almost become a habit: stating the obvious. Such as Yuri being taller than Otabek or Victor being an idiot.

“Otabek, do you have a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Not even in Kazakhstan?”

“No.”

Yuri felt relieved, though he hoped Otabek did not notice. They were not used to see each other that much, he thought. They actually met once every million years. But they were naked and hugging in a hotel sofa. He wondered what would happen if JJ appeared in that moment, and pinched his cheek.

“Can’t you stay two more days?”

“I’m sorry. Uni starts soon.”

Yuri did not answer. Otabek was warm against him, and his chest moved up and down so calmly that he seemed asleep. He wanted to stay like that forever.

“Do you like anyone in Kazakhstan?”

“What’s with the question?”

“Katsudon told me it was one of the first things Victor asked him. And I’m curious.”

He did not want the longing in his voice to be noticed.

“No. No one.”

In the corridor, someone began to run and crashed against something but kept running. With a lift of his head, Yuri pinned his chin in Otabek’s chest. He was almost sure that it hurt, but he said nothing.

“And me?”

Otabek looked him in the eyes. His hand, half-way untangling a blond lock, stopped. Slowly, softly, he lifted Yuri’s head; changed his position to a more comfortable one. Then he went back to Yuri’s hair. He still had his eyes locked on him.

“Yeah.”

Yuri smiled. Then he turned his head again and his fingers caressed Otabek’s chin.

Otabek returned the smile, a smile that said _ you’re so predictable _ but also _ you’re cute _ and _ I still admire you just like when we were eleven_.

“Are you hungry?”

Otabek nodded slowly.

“Just a little.”

“Do you want to go have some dinner downstairs?”

Otabek shook his head.

“I’m too comfortable here.”

Yuri took Otabek’s hand and set it aside. Then he stood up. Almost immediately, Otabek felt the absence of Yuri: In the cold on his body and the soft tingle of Yuri’s hair. When Yuri returned, he was carrying a plastic bag.

“Don’t tell Yakov.”

It was an invariable request and Otabek gave an invariable answer.

“If I tell him, he will kill _ me_.”

Chocolates and vanilla milkshake. Yuri had fixed preferences and Otabek had come to like those two things thanks to him.

“Whenever I drink vanilla milkshakes, I am reminded of you.”

“They are the best.”

They ate in silence, sitting on the sofa, still as close as they could. Otabek being careful not to leave crumbs, Yuri getting stained all over his face with chocolate. Then they hid the bag under the sofa, in case Yakov would appear. Yuri sank again in the sofa, leaning on Otabek and leaving from time to time a kiss on his shoulder.

The hotel was silent.

“Do you think they are asleep already?” asked Otabek.

“They are probably partying. When Victor and Chris get together, I guarantee they don’t sleep. I’m scared of what might happen tonight.”

“I guess we can trust Yuuri’s common sense.”

Yuri rose up suddenly and looked at Otabek dead serious.

“Katsudon? He will be the first to fall. You saw him, whenever he drinks he becomes just like the other…” he yawned “two.”

“At this rate, the first to fall will be you.”

Yuri rested his head on Otabek’s shoulder. He took his hand, tracing circles with the tip of his fingers on it. Otabek’s fingers were thin and long, his skin way darker than Yuri’s. He was envious even about that. Otabek had big hands and pianist fingers.

“I’m going to stay awake all night.” Without releasing his hand, Yuri slid until he rested his head on Otabek’s lap, his feet hanging from the sofa.

“If you sleep like that, your back will hurt.” Otabek pinched Yuri’s cheek, trying to make him sit up. Yuri stopped him with his free hand, earning a caress on his temple. “And the next training sessions will be torture.”

“Only for today…”

“Oly for today you have stuffed yourself with chocolate. And you are the World Champion. Where’s your pyjama?”

“In Saint Petersburg.”

Otabek laughed. A short, profound laugh that reverberated somewhere deep in Yuri’s chest. Then he stood up, to which Yuri reacted letting his head down and growling in a very Potya way.

The emptiness did not last for long. He opened the bed (it was double sized because, deep down, Yakov knew how to take care of his skaters) and returned to the sofa. Instead of standing up, Yuri extended his arms towards Otabek. He lifted him, and Yuri immediately hugged him. They fell on the bed and Otabek put the quilt over them. Yuri rolled until he was clinging to him again, and moved until he managed to fit Otabek again, legs hooked and hands under the pillow. Otabek returned his attention to Yuri’s hair.

“It grew a lot.”

“Yes.”

Yuri closed his eyes and leaned towards Otabek’s hand.

“You’re tired.”

Yuri took a moment to answer.

“No.”

He let his head down and took Otabek’s hand.

Through the window, streetlights and lighted signs’ light filtered, but the stars could be seen. The sofa was all wrinkled, with some food crumbles they would have to clean in the morning. On the bed, Otabek’s arm was becoming numb under Yuri, but he didn’t move. Yuri’s breathing and his grasp of Otabek’s fingers became softer. Otabek’s hand became still and he closed his eyes too.

At the corridor, someone sang loudly as he walked towards his room with heavy steps, and someone else tried to quiet him, but neither of the two boys in the bed heard it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that gives its name to the whole fanfic, and it's definitely my favourite. I almost forgot posting today because I'm dumb and overwhelmed ^^' but here it is! Please tell me if you enjoyed it because I loved writing this one so much.


	5. Interview

“Sophia, please, the remote!”

“I’m watching this.”

“You can record it and watch it later. Please, let me see the interview!”

“Otabek…” The young girl’s grip on the remote softened while she prepared to make some joke about how hung up her brother was, but Otabek seized the opportunity and grabbed the remote from his sister’s hands.

“Hey!”

He changed the channel to sports.

Yuri was already on screen, answering the questions of the interviewer in English. When he spoke in English, he became softer. He looked like the child he still somehow was, maybe due to a simple lack of vocabulary, although that fierce strength never fully disappeared, no matter the language.

Yuri talked about Victor’s program, about the reasons behind the choice of music, and about his new friendship with Otabek. They had exchanged phone numbers, talked often… Yuri even waved at the TV, “in case he is looking” he said.

“I can’t believe you’re blushing” Sophia said.

“And I can’t believe how nosy you can be."

The interview finished and they broadcasted a video that mixed images of Yuri’s routines with those of him attending the Yuri Angels.

Twenty minutes later, Otabek’s phone rang.

“Did you see it?”

Yuri’s eyes shone in the screen. Otabek nodded.

“You were great.”

“I did as you told me, imagining I was answering you.”

Otabek smiled as Yuri went on a rant about how he had won the nationals changing the jumps to make them more fluid. Then he proceeded to ask Otabek about the semi-final, and Otabek told him he was dancing Wagner this time.

Yuri could not understand.

“You’re a DJ! You could dance to your own music and that would be thrilling! Why something as schoolish as classical music?”

“I think it is more inspiring, because those composers survived history… Something like that. Not sure how to explain it.”

“I don’t get you.”

“That’s fine. It’s something personal, to be honest. I don’t think I could dance to my own mixtapes if it’s not with you.”

The faintest shade of pink appeared over Yuri’s cheeks and nose.

“You’re awesome.”

Otabek felt a weight on his shoulder, and Sophia appeared from behind.

“Hi, Yuri!”

Yuri waved back.

“Yuri look! I cut my hair! Now I look like you! And look, I made a portrait!”

She sent him a picture. It was a drawing of Otabek’s face on pencil, serious and looking at the camera.

“It’s awesome! I’m keeping it as lockscreen wallpaper.”

“Please don’t.” Said Otabek.

“I’ll give you the original next time we meet!” She answered. “That will be the Worlds.”

“Are you coming to the Worlds?”

“Yeah!”

“Sorry for interrupting, you two,” intervened Otabek. “But I have to leave, I’m sort of busy. I’m hanging up. Good bye, Yuri.”

Yuri’s smile faded.

“Good bye,” Yuri said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, bittersweet chapter today... How was it? I'm curious if anyone else headcanons the idea of Yuri getting nervous in front of cameras *grins*


	6. Retirement

“Fourth gold in the Nationals, a personal record this year. How do you feel about it?”

“I feel proud. Proud of my whole team, of my friends and family, who have supported me, and of the choreographers.”

“Well, you are actually the only Kazakh skater with the ability to land quads in competitions.”

Otabek’s smile turned uncomfortable, unsure about the journalist’s intentions.

“Yes, well… If this is my opportunity to contribute to my country’s visibility, I’ll keep giving my best.”

“Speak of which, silver medal at the World Championships. Not bad.”

“That’s for sure. I still can’t believe it. All the effort paid off.”

“How does it feel to get to the podium only when Victor Nikiforov and Jean Jacques Leroy have left?”

Otabek’s smile faded off.

“They are excellent skaters, but the competition this year doesn’t fall short. Yuri Plisetsky, Yuuri Katsuki, Minami Kenjirou… All of them are rivals to fear and respect.”

The journalist felt the displeasure in Otabek’s voice and decided to retrieve.

“Speaking of which, this year’s music was composed by you and you were the main choreographer. You could say it was the best program you had until now.”

“Well, I’m twenty two. I have never skated full time, and I have other priorities from now on. I want to finish my degree and dedicate myself full time to studies. This is the right moment to retire, and I wanted to do so through the main gate.”

* * *

Between the interviews, the podium and the afterwards mess, Otabek could not see Yuri until they were at the banquet.

“University? Why would you want to do that?”

“We’ve talked about this before. I want a masters and doctorate on biochemistry. I want to research.”

“And I don’t see why you would do that. You’re one of the best skaters in the whole world.”

Otabek fell silent for a moment before answering.

“I see.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Yuri, I’m not sure what exactly are you expecting from me regarding this. I thought it was my decision. And I was already accepted in Madrid anyways, I’m not wasting this opportunity.”

Yuri closed his hand in a tight fist, frowning.

“I guess it is. Alright.”

Otabek reached for Yuri’s hand, and he relaxed it and let Otabek hold it.

“What should we do for this year’s exhibition?” Yuri was staring at the empty plate, avoiding Otabek’s gaze, but Otabek smiled.

“I have an idea.”

They returned to the hotel as soon as they could escape from the rest of the skaters. It was always the same: trying to exploit the few days they had together in every competition, trying to ignore that months would pass between a meeting and the next one. Giving their best in exhibitions because it was the only way they could skate together. It had become a tradition.

This time, they made it about long distance. Otabek would skate about desperation and about trying to make his biggest efforts to meet the other person at least once more, always once more, and Yuri about oblivion, about carelessness, about carrying on with his life without dedicating a single thought to the other person. That was the hard part, because the lyrics spoke of Otabek’s side.

On Yuri’s request, the performance ended with a hug that let him hide how little he liked that program and how close he felt to that same destiny. Even though they still had the Olympics left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora here!
> 
> I was talking to my beta reader, Nina, about this fic and I told her that the hardest part of making up skating programs for fanfiction is that I'm always left wanting to actually watch them. That feeling is so strong in this chapter... Does anyone else feel that when reading YoI fanfiction?


	7. Funeral

It was the first time Otabek saw Yuri cry. He had seen him get angry, throw tantrums, fall silent after a bad competition, but it was the first time he saw those green eyes spill tears and Otabek could do nothing. He could fly a really long distance in a really short period of time, of course. He could be by his side in that moment, probably one of the hardest Yuri had had in his twenty years. He could take care of the mundane tasks, leave space and time for him and his family, so they could mourn Nikolai. He could even hug Yuri, a gesture that had become the solution for everything.

None of those would stop Yuri crying in front of his grandfather’s coffin.

There had been people entering and leaving the velatory the whole day, some greeting Yuri, some others minding only the coffin. Yuri’s mother had taken care of the reception, with Yuuri and Victor’s help. Otabek had arrived that same morning: Two days after receiving the news, he had taken the first available flight from Madrid to Moscow. Yakov had tried to stop him with talk of unnecessary burden and stress. Mila and Yuuri had interceded.

Yuri pulled Otabek’s shirt, head still resting on his shoulder, without releasing him from the embrace.

“Otabek, let’s go home.”

"There are still a few hours left here.”

“I don’t care, let’s go.”

“Home?”

Yuri stepped back and shook his head.

“Do you want to come to my hotel?”

Yuri nodded.

They took the underground. Otabek’s hotel room was small, the bed was even smaller. Yuri sat in the only chair there was and Otabek on the bed, and Yuri began a conversation. Otabek wanted to ask. He wanted to ask how Yuri felt, what would he do from that moment on, about skating and about retiring, now that he did not have to provide for his grandpa.

It was not the right moment.

Yuri spoke, but he spoke about possible plans for the next day, about trying to skip the next training session, about Yakov and the bother it had been to organize the velatory, about Yuuri and Victor and how overprotective and cheesy they were, although there was gratitude in his voice, something Otabek had learned to detect with time. He asked Otabek about his family, his younger sister and university. About his friends and his recent mixtape. Little by little, the sadness in his face disappeared.

They went out that night. They had dinner at a fast food restaurant, went for a walk, rented a motorbike and Otabek drove until Yuri forgot about his grandfather, his training, retiring and everything that wasn’t wind on his face and adrenaline in his body.

When Otabek left Yuri at home, he was tired enough to go straight to bed and sleep the whole night in a row.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst, somehow? I began writing this chapter without thinking and without a plan in mind but I think it turned out beautiful in a way. What will happen to Yuri after Nikolai is not there anymore?


	8. The fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The screenshots are from Yuri's phone, meaning that blue is always Yuri and grey is always Otabek.

It had not even been face to face. Maybe if it had happened differently, Yuri would have accepted it more easily. Or maybe it would simply not have happened.

It was March. Otabek was working on his exams in Spain while Yuri, in Russia, finished the details for his World Championship choreography.

He aimed to beat his own record.

He checked his phone. The last log between Otabek and him was from two days ago, and going through previous conversations, all of Otabek’s messages were short answers. It felt like he was just monologuing and ranting to a void.

That had been in the morning. That night, they did not log in to Skype. Otabek did not have the time and Yuri did not have the energy to insist. Instead, Otabek sent him a message.

For a moment, there was silence in the groupchat. Then Yuri answered.

Otabek took a moment to answer. He took off his glasses and closed the laptop, then lay on the bed.

They had had that conversation before. The one about his future, or maybe about the lack of it.

Otabek sent the last message before he read what Yuri had sent, and he regretted almost immediately. But he pushed. He felt he needed to push.

__   


__   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora here!
> 
> Oh! Ah, uhm... Hi? It's been a while? I skipped yesterday's chapter and I almost skipped today's. (Did anyone notice?) I had two pretty intense days. Besides riddiculing myself in various ways (my computer fell to the floor -but it's fine, I'm typing this with it-; some random man on the street called me out because I was dancing... -he asked me why I was so happy, he was nice- and some other stuff. Also, my English teacher told me to stop abusing the word "stuff" in academic context so now I'll abuse it here instead and stuff), I've been working on an essay. The thing is, I got to interview an expert on the field about it but he only had time the day before the submission, so... You can guess how the story ends. (Hint: It includes 6 cups of coffee). I submitted the thing about a minute ago, and I can say I'm happy with it. Last minute stress aside, I had so much fun researching for it I couldn't care less about the grade. But enough of my boring life.
> 
> OTABEK AND YURI FOUGHT!!!! WHAT WILL HAPPEN NOW!?!?! WHY IS YURI SO PROUD!?!?!? This is my first ever social media AU and I don't know if it's confusing or it's okay, but I've tried my best. Is it easy to read? And regarding the story... I wonder how long will they last angry at each other?
> 
> P.D.: Yuri's way of typing is exaggeratedly annoying and I'm only a little bit sorry about that.


	9. Madrid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Te vienes hoy de copas?: Would you come for a drink?  
No puedo. Tengo… un trabajo.: I can't, I have a job.  
¿Dónde?: Where?  
Nos vemos entonces.: See you then.

Otabek woke up a few minutes before the alarm went off. He disconnected it and stood up. He opened his phone, scrolling through his messages. He answered some of them, dressed up and went out for a run. He ran through the streets of Madrid to the Retiro park, for about an hour, then went back to the apartment. He grabbed his phone and checked the messages again. There was only one conversation that mattered and the last message was three months old. He showered and headed to the campus.

“Good morning!”

Otabek waved at his lab mate briefly and entered the building, as he rambled about the night before and some great party Otabek had missed, switching constantly between Spanish and English. The boy was not the best at English and Otabek’s Spanish was still slow and insecure, but they understood each other. Otabek liked him, maybe because he liked to talk and let him just listen, or maybe because he had the same energy as Yuri in some gestures. Maybe it was both.

He spent the morning investigating for the doctorate and after lunch, he headed to Spanish class, and then locked himself again in his office to prepare classes. His phone vibrated several times, but it was never Yuri. It had been so long since the last time it had been him he just didn't bother checking anymore.

When he was about to head home, his lab mate appeared at the door.

“Otabek! _Te vienes hoy de copas_?”

“_No puedo. Tengo… un trabajo_.”

_ “Dónde _ ?”

“At a Malasaña place… as a dj.”

“Whoa, tell me the address and I’ll drop by!”

“Sure, I’ll send it to you.”

“_Nos vemos entonces_.”

“Yeah.”

* * *

By noon, at the opposite side of Madrid, Yuri was lost. He kept checking his phone, searching for a metro station, asking around, and took 40 minutes longer than he was supposed to get from the bus station to the hotel he was temporarily staying at. The receptionist gave him the key to his and he dropped the luggage and showered, just in time to leave for the Palacio de Hielo.

Javier was already there. He gave him instructions briefly: it was a new project, just recently started and they still were adapting, so Yuri had to start giving classes that same day.

He found himself teaching kids how to skate. The youngest was six, and the oldest, eleven. None of them had ever wore skates. Yuri’s heart sank for a moment before deciding he was choiceless. He dedicated the next class to teach them how to stay on their skates, without falling, still mostly helped by the rink walls or Yuri himself.

Only when the class was over, he could discuss the terms: he would be coached, in exchange for classes to children.

He returned to the hotel exhausted, both mentally and physically, due to the long plane traveling and the class, and decided to leave apartment hunting for the next day. His phone had some calls, from Yuuri, Mila, Giorgi and Yakov. No one else. Not Otabek. Not that it mattered anymore. Their last conversation had disappeared along with his old phone so he could not read and reread their last conversation and regret every single word.

He undressed and fell on the bed. In no time, he was asleep.


	10. Finale

For Yuri, back in the days of his senior competition, time without Otabek was always endless. Time between seasons, waiting to compete again, to meet Otabek, was endless. Time between one competition and the next was endless. And sometimes the time that took for other skaters to skate their programs felt endless.

Four years were too long. That was the first thought he had when he looked at the window of the café and he saw the profile of a man that perfectly fit that of Otabek, talking seriously to a woman in front of him. The next thought was that it was impossible, that it could not be, but then the man turned his head towards him and their eyes met. Both of their faces changed to shock and, as Otabek stood up, Yuri could not help but smashing open the door of the café, run towards him and throw his arms around Otabek’s neck.

Both of them lengthened the hug more than it was comfortable for the woman who was sitting in front of Otabek.

But eventually the hug was over, replaced by awkwardness.

“How have you been?” Tried Yuri.

“Fine, you?”

“Fine. It’s been a while…” Long silence again. Something about them refrained the girl from interrupting them. “I’ll go order. Be right back.” Yuri walked away, towards the counter. He asked for the most sweet-looking drink and went back to Otabek’s table. The girl had left.

“She’s my lab mate” Otabek said. “We were just finishing.”

That was a lie. He had begged her to reschedule the meeting, because that long-haired, thin boy who was ordering the most childish drink in the menu was his long lost friend and he could not risk to waste this opportunity. He would probably have to pay her lunch for a whole week, but it would be a small price to pay.

He would not say that outloud. The urge to play it cool in front of Yuri was still strong after all this time.

“We should go for a walk,” Yuri said. He nodded.

As coffee warmed their hands, memories warmed their conversation. They walked through the streets, Yuri dying to hold Otabek’s hands, Otabek waiting for Yuri to do it. He did not.

They talked, getting on track with their careers, plans, friends, families, skating. The conversation could have gone on forever, but it did not seem to go the way they wanted. As Yuri finished a story about his cats, silence fell on them again. Then they spoke at the same time.

“Yuri, I…”

“Beka, we…”

Silence again.

Otabek changed his mind. He leaned, his lips brushed Yuri’s faintly. A ghost of the kiss that should have been given four years ago.

“I’m sorry.”

Yuri wondered how he could have lived four years without hugging Otabek, if just a few minutes without it suddenly felt endless.

He hugged him. In the middle of the park, as tourist passed and probably stared, Yuri hugged Otabek as if his life was on hold. They kissed, and this was a present kiss, a kiss they owed each other for all those years of waiting, of hopeless daydreaming. As Otabek’s hands, as warm and big and kind as he remembered circled Yuri’s hair, he surrounded his neck, leaned towards him and when the kiss was over they kept hugging. For far longer than a hug should last. They tried to make up for six years worth of hugs, for having gone from sleeping naked on a narrow coach together to being unable to send a text message. Yuri was crying and Otabek looked like he was about to.

“Let’s…”  _ not ever part again. Love each other honestly, as we used to. Forgive. Kiss again. Make up. Get to know each other again. Fall asleep on the couch together after a whole night talking. Get married. Have a date. Hug. Share our lives from here on forever…  _ First things first. “Go back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bienvenidos: Welcome.
> 
> So... This is coming to an end. The art is by Han (Phichithamsters). Check her on Ao3 and Tumblr. I was dying to post it (because I love it and I love how it reflects the scene) (but also because she looked so excited to draw it as soon as she read the scene and that made my day). And... This is about it. These two dorks are finally back together. One chapter left and it will be over, it was a short but intense adventure.


	11. Silly Extra: *gasps* there was only one bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disculpe las molestias: we apologize for the inconvenience.  
No se preocupe: don’t worry.

They arrived at Toledo just in time for dinner. It had been Otabek’s idea: make a short trip next weekend, spend some real time together, away from responsibilities. Catch up with each other, without hurry.

Yuri had agreed.

They went straight to the first restaurant they found, the luggage still in Yuri’s car. It was a slow dinner, both of them too interested in the conversation to really pay attention to the food or to the waiters, Otabek switching to Spanish to talk to them and Yuri speaking English, still not too confident in Spanish.

They returned to the hotel and the receptionist brought them to their room. She gave them the keys and disappeared, and Otabek, after fumbling with it for a while, managed to open the door and step in.

He froze in the way.

“There’s…”

Yuri sneaked in. He looked at the panorama and kept a giggle in.

“I’m going to have a shower” he said, without looking at the room twice. He disappeared in the bathroom, leaving Otabek staring at the double bed, red like a tomato, with the certainty that he had fucked up.

He called the receptionist.

“But I wrote two…”

“It’s written here that you wanted a room for two, sir. There were no specifications… I’m sorry, but there are no other rooms available at this moment.”

“That’s… okay, fine. Thank you so much.”

“ _ Disculpe las molestias. _ ”

“ _ No se preocupe. _ ”

Yuri left the bathroom shortly after. He looked at the bed, then at Otabek, and pointed to the bathroom with a head gesture.

“Your turn.”

Otabek obeyed absentmindedly. The shower did not wash away his shame, still unsure about Yuri’s thoughts on the room. It had not been a month since they had met again after almost four years apart, and he was still unsure about everything, still scared that one word would take Yuri away from him again. And yet there he was, at a hotel room with a single bed. Everything was so wrong.

When he left the shower, he found Yuri sitting on the bed, fidgeting with his phone. He had not bothered getting dressed again. As soon as he saw Otabek, he left it and approached him.

“That’s unexpected,” Otabek said.

“I was worried whether we’d fit in your bed,” Yuri replied. “This is a good solution.”

“I wanted them to be separated,” he muttered.

Yuri frowned.

“Beka, when, since the day we met, have we slept in the same room in different beds before?”

“When have we spent four years apart before?”

“So you’d rather sleep apart?”

Otabek ran a hand through Yuri’s wet hair.

“No. Yuri, it’s not that. You know it’s not… I’d rather not fuck up again.”

Yuri closed his eyes to Otabek’s hand, relaxing his expression. A soft smile spread slowly.

“You won’t. I won’t let you.”

He leaned in for a hug, his arms around Otabek. He found himself surprised that Otabek was not as muscular as before. He was still fit, just softer in a way. He kissed his temple, the nearest skin he found, remaining still, his eyes still closed, memories returning from every night spent together after competitions or during visits to each other, always Otabek’s tan skin against his paler one, always this familiar warm, always tender fingers on blond hair, kisses pressed on Otabek’s shoulder, neck and cheeks.

Otabek stepped back, and Yuri gasped. The first thought he had was that he had overstepped and it had been too much, too soon. He stared, dumbfounded, as Otabek opened the bed sheets, then turned back to Yuri.

“I don’t think I can lift you anymore.”

Yuri chuckled at his own insecurities. A nervous, relieved sound that gave in to a proper laugh. He hugged Otabek, faster this time, pushing him to the bed. There was that warm feeling again, right in his chest. Otabek pressed a kiss on his lips and threw the quilt over them.

“Sleep.” His hands were again on Yuri’s hair.

“I don’t want to,” Yuri said with a yawn.

“I missed this,” Otabek whispered, running his fingers through Yuri's scalp.

“I missed you,” Yuri replied.

Silence fell over the room as Yuri’s breath became steadier and softer as he fell asleep. It did not take long for Otabek to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!!!
> 
> So, special thanks to @phichithamsters for the art and @ninanineto for beta-reading (and for her cute comments everywhere). Also to the mods of the bang for their hard work ><
> 
> I think this is the first cohesionated multi-chapter story I have finished, I really hope you enjoyed it until the end. I like to believe these two dorks will live happily ever after from now on and eventually marry (the main reason why I moved them to Spain).


End file.
